Lost Boys Drabbles
by VulcanCheesecake
Summary: A few drabbles based on words I was given. Various pairings, all slash, listed as David and Michael because there's more than one of those. Mainly angsty because I'm a meanie.


**Alone**  
Michael stood out on the boardwalk waiting for David. He didn't care if Marko and the rest showed up. He felt he should if he was meant to be one of them but he just didn't. David did show, eventually. "What are you waiting for?" he snapped as soon as he saw Michael, which was before Michael saw him. Michael squared his shoulders and stood as straight as he could, not backing down. He wouldn't take all of this from David. He'd try not to. "You." Michael replied to the growled question, throwing the blonde off his track for a second. The head vampire seemed alone. He visibly sighed. He was alone, then. The blonde straightened, taking Michael by the front of his shirt. "What the fuck are you doing here? Why the hell do you want to wait for me, you little faggot? You think I don't have it enough with the rest of them? You think Max isn't in my face every fucking day asking me why I'm not bringing him more boys? God and you're there, you're just THERE, you're..." his aggression and anger faded again, but he didn't let go of Michael's shirt. "You're there...you're there aren't you? You always are." Michael nodded, sliding his arms across David's shoulders and around him. "I'm here."

**Age**  
It was funny, Michael thought, as he lay beside David, who was still getting his breathing under control, how big their age difference must be. "How old are you David?" he asked, smiling.  
"The fuck, man? I'm four hundred and fifty three now. How old are you?" David's smile and his tone were faintly mocking, but fond as well. "Me? I'm nineteen." That was a difference of four hundred and thirty four years. "Shouldn't you be freaked out by the gap?" David asked.  
"Probably. But you look no older than twenty, so nobody has to know. I'll keep your secret old man." Michael grinned broadly, squeezing David's hand that had snaked into his own. "Oh you wish. Experienced Michael, I'm experienced. I could teach you so much."  
"I look forward to it." Michael shuffled a little closer and David actually wrapped an arm around him. Age? He didn't care when he had David like this.

**Sickness**  
Marko was David's favourite of the group. Not that he would admit it. They were out on the boardwalk, the fair crammed with people as usual, and David was hungry. The others were off somewhere else, and Marko had left David's side for a few minutes to find someone. David satisfied his own hunger, awaiting Marko back on the beach. He waited for longer than he would anyone else before giving up and seeking out Marko, planning on showing him what happened when he kept him waiting. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the golden haired teen standing by himself, shivering in the warm air. As David got closer, he could see Marko was sweating too. "Hey, what's up?" His only answer was Marko shuddering and spilling the blood he had stolen from an innocent onto the sand. David made sure none of the others were around before he gently put a hand on Marko's back as he retched. "You've got to be careful who you drink from. And you've got to be careful to stop after they're dead." David ran his hand all the way down Marko's shaking form, resting his arm around his shoulders when the long haired vampire wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Sorry David," he said in the smallest voice David had ever heard. The leader shook his head, slowly walking back up the beach, back to the cave with Marko in tow. "You should lay down, Marko," David said it gently, but with his authority. Marko obeyed as he knew he would, and David sat beside him, placing a hand, then a kiss on his sweaty forehead, satisfying himself that his blonde haired dark angel would be all right soon. 

**Death**  
The last thing Michael remembered was David standing over him laughing. "Death Michael? Of course it's death! You're dying! But it's only the beginning." And Michael thought that David seemed crude then. He had been almost seductive in getting Michael to join him and his friends, but now the deed was done he was distant. Colder. Showing off; a teenage boy out to impress his friends. And then it all became darkness. Michael woke up with someone's hand on his forehead. He was still in the cave, he could see the stalactites on the ceiling, but the Boys were gone. No Marko. No Dwayne. No Paul. No group of teenage kids, kids his own age laughing at his misery, so reminiscent of playground bullies when they had all been small. Someone had remained though, someone was soothing his forehead as he stirred awake. At first he thought it was Star, but then the blonde ringleader of the vampire gang moved into his line of vision. "Good morning sunshine," David drawled, the hints of a smile pulling at his lips. But at least he sounded a little more sincere now. Michael tried to move, but David kept him still. "No, don't move. Your own blood all needs to go from your system. It will only hurt you if you move," he warned.  
"Why are you telling me this? It's not like you care!" Michael's eyes burned with shameful tears as he remembered what he'd let David do to him, the kisses shared under the pier where nobody would see them, and then the way David had treated him last night.  
"But I do care Michael. Of course I do. I'm sorry about yesterday." David's long white fingers dashed away the saltwater in his eyes. "If I didn't care about you...if I didn't want you so desperately, if I didn't need you for as long as we will live – which will be forever if you let it – I would never have killed you. That makes me no less selfish, but it is a better reason."  
"You killed me...yes, you killed me..." Michael said it not to accuse David, knowing his apology was genuine – David did not pretend when he was alone, much like Michael himself. – but in reflection.  
"Yes Michael, I killed you. Because when we die, we become the people we're meant to be. We show our true selves. We stop pretending and reach out for what we need." His hand slid into Michael's.

**Brotherhood  
**Edgar had always known that Alan wasn't really related to him. He'd known it, but he hadn't accepted it. There was a difference. Just because it was true didn't make it _true. _He and Alan were brothers. They stuck together, watched each others' backs. Nothing would come between them. Not even the shit-suckers. Nothing. Until Sam came along. Edgar took it for granted that Alan would always be there, so he started hanging out with his brother and supposed best friend less and less. When he kissed Sam, locked in his room in the middle of the night, he didn't tell Alan, even though he'd promised countless times that he'd always tell his brother everything. When Sam didn't jump and run a mile in shock, and instead reciprocated Edgar's feelings, he didn't tell Alan.  
When Alan sat by himself in the corner of the store, watching his best friend leave to be with some newcomer, aimlessly flicking through old comics instead of going out and seeing _anyone, _he didn't tell Edgar. When he saw his brother happy for the first time in so long and the jealousy burned, he didn't tell Edgar. When his mind was so full of what he hadn't told that the beings they had once both sought to eradicate actually managed to inflict a wound on him, he didn't tell Edgar. When he felt himself slipping out of consciousness, and life, he called out for Edgar. He called out for his brother, who came running. When Edgar knelt beside him, angry tears dripping onto Alan's arm, he told him.  
"You're not my brother. You never were."  
Such resentment and anger and sorrow. But that was what had bound them together for almost seventeen years. They had _always_ been brothers.


End file.
